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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406198">Absolution</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeBeautiful/pseuds/StrangeBeautiful'>StrangeBeautiful</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Image, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mirror Sex, Namikaze Minato Lives, Obito is a sweet sad bean, Post-war feelings, Praise Kink, Soft feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:33:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeBeautiful/pseuds/StrangeBeautiful</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wear my greatest mistakes on my body,” Obito finally says, throat thick with regret. “I shouldn’t have survived the war.”</p><p>Minato’s chest aches, a pain somehow worse than any wound from a blade. “There is no should and shouldn’t after war. You are alive. You are here.” Soft lips press against his former student’s forehead. “You’re home.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Namikaze Minato/Uchiha Obito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Absolution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anannua/gifts">Anannua</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for my girl Anannua, who is the kindest, sweetest, sunshine human. I hope this soft MinaObi fills your heart with joy, and that it fuels your current MinaObi kick even more!</p><p>A tiny bit of background for this short fic that took me by surprise: Obito and Minato survive the Fourth War. They're older. They have a LOT to unpack.</p><p>This is a bit of a different style of writing for me than usual, so I hope y'all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obito avoids mirrors. </p><p>Shamefully, Minato didn’t realize it immediately. Obito’s brash sense of confidence left Minato believing that the younger man simply didn’t care. Effortlessly messy spikes of hair hardly required maintenance, and it’s not as if he needed to see himself in the mirror to get dressed. But the first time they stepped out of the shower together, Minato noticed the way that Obito’s eyes deliberately locked on the opposite wall, his own reflection a temptation that he sought to ignore.</p><p>And it keeps happening. The bathroom mirror seemed to be a bane and the post-shower fog a gift. When Minato catches his gaze, Obito’s grimace melts into something softer, an expression only meant for him. The blonde hates to admit that he can be so easily distracted by the way that Obito loves him so deeply, without reservations and fear, and Minato just doesn’t have the heart to ask the question when he already knows the answer.</p><p>One morning, Minato finds Obito in the bathroom with bloodied knuckles, shattered glass scattered across the floor. He shakes in his spot, tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes wild as Minato cuts through the carnage, hands going to the younger man’s face. </p><p>“Let’s dress your wound,” Minato says, flashing them to the living room. Obito’s tears stream steadily and silently, shame evident as the Hokage cleans the gashes on his knuckles. </p><p>When the bandages have been wound and secured, Minato kisses his fingertips with reverence.</p><p>“I wear my greatest mistakes on my body,” Obito finally says, throat thick with regret. “I shouldn’t have survived the war.”</p><p>Minato’s chest aches, a pain somehow worse than any wound from a blade. “There is no <em> should </em> and <em> shouldn’t </em> after war. You are alive. You are here.” Soft lips press against his former student’s forehead. “You’re <em> home.</em>”</p><p>When Obito presses his face to Minato’s chest, the older man’s shirt muffles a sob. His lover clings to him, fingers tangled in fabric as he holds onto Minato for dear life, for dear love, and Minato sinks his roots to keep him grounded. </p><p>The blonde sweeps the remnants of the mirror away long after Obito has fallen asleep, face nuzzled into a saltwater pillow, and he contemplates the way that the mirror can never be reassembled. The Obito he knows now is not the bright-eyed and optimistic child that he once taught, but he also is not the villain that nearly succeeded in lulling the world into an infinite dream. </p><p>As he shakes the shards into the trash, Minato thinks of his lover as stained glass, a thousand broken pieces made into something infinitely more beautiful. </p><p>---</p><p>There is still a mirror in the house, and only Obito knows of it. When Minato leaves for long shifts behind his desk, Obito draws it out, the long length of it reflecting every inch of his mismatched skin.</p><p>He hates it. </p><p>The guilt is insidious, powerful - it curls in Obito’s gut every time he sees the limbs that he doesn’t deserve. Why is he the one still standing? He’s left behind a sea of bodies, spent years forsaking the place that he considers home, and he feels stupid for being so young, so naive, so easily manipulated. Every day that he breathes and Rin does not is a small death, and it still doesn’t even the score.</p><p>His fingers whisper down the seam that divides the before and the after.</p><p>“Obito?” </p><p>Minato’s soft voice sounds from behind him, and he freezes as he’s caught in his act of self-loathing. His former teacher flashes to his side, fingertips pressing against the seal that the older man had left on his back when they first started dating. </p><p>
  <em> “This way, I can be at your side when you need me,” Minato said as they curled up in bed, stroking his hand lovingly along Obito’s shoulder blade. The warmth of the Hokage’s chakra sinking into his shoulder was only second to the sunshine smile gracing his lips. “I will always be there for you.” </em>
</p><p>“I hate seeing you torture yourself like this,” Minato says, interrupting Obito’s musings. “Sometimes, I feel like you see an entirely different person in the mirror.”</p><p>“I know exactly what I look like,” Obito replies indignantly, and Minato wraps his arms around Obito’s skinny waist, warm palms seeking skin. Soft lips burn open-mouthed kisses along the curve of Obito’s neck, and he shivers under hands that have slaughtered armies. </p><p>For all of Obito’s guilt, there is likely nobody that understands his difficulty reconciling with violence better than Minato. But Minato is different - there is a fire that burns under his skin, a drive to protect his village that is stronger than guilt, stronger than greed, stronger than regret. Minato has never lost a night of sleep to death, dancing with it like an old lover, a necessary companion to keep his precious people safe.</p><p>“You don’t,” Minato murmurs, tracing the same line drawn between his new limbs and his old body. “You don’t know how beautiful you are.”</p><p>“Beautiful?” Obito scoffs, incredulous. “Not me.” </p><p>Now Minato? He’s beautiful, with sun-kissed skin and lean muscle. Obito is littered with scars, inside and out. His body may have aged, but he’s still the boy foolish enough to trust the words of a malicious ancestor. He still doesn’t understand how Minato wants someone like him.</p><p>“I want to show you,” Minato says, fingers teasing at the waistband of the younger man’s sweatpants. He’s already responding to Minato’s touch, his nerves coming alive as his lover seeks permission. </p><p>Teeth sink into the crook of Obito’s neck as he groans out, “O-Okay.”</p><p>But Minato redirects his attention, leaving Obito’s waistband to migrate up his broad chest. The older man is a little shorter, and a lot smaller, the width of his body swallowed up. But he stands on his toes to rest his chin on Obito’s shoulder, observing his lover’s reactions in the mirror. </p><p>Instinctively, Obito turns away from his reflection, but Minato handles his scarred jaw easily, holding him in place and forcing him to watch. His other hand maps out Obito’s pectorals, lovingly stroking muscle with confident hands, and the Uchiha whimpers at the touch. </p><p>“My strong, beautiful boy.” Minato’s sultry baritone is an experience, the reward center in Obito’s brain singing at the praise. “I remember seeing you like this during the war.”</p><p>Obito wants to escape as soon as the word <em> war </em> leaves Minato’s lips, but the Hokage’s grip is absolute, and his next words are an even better binding than his hands. </p><p>“The moment I saw you, I wanted to make you mine,” Minato says, and Obito can feel his pulse in his throat at the thought alone. “I was elated to see you <em> alive, </em> and then you had the audacity to look like <em> this</em>?” </p><p>Blue eyes turn dark, pupils blown wide, and Minato’s fingers pluck at a nipple, pinching it just hard enough to watch Obito squirm. </p><p>“I wanted to lay you down and bite every perfect inch of you.” The blonde drags his lips and tongue and teeth along the sensitive skin of Obito’s regrown shoulder. “I wanted to know what your scars felt like under my fingertips,” Minato continues, unhurriedly exploring washboard abs, his flattened hand sliding down before resting warm and heavy against the younger man’s navel. “I wanted to know what your face would look like when I was <em> inside </em> you.”</p><p>“P-Please, Minato, I--” Obito begs before he has the decency to stop himself. The way Minato is grinding against his ass, filthy and slow, makes a desperate man out of him.</p><p>“Not yet, darling,” Minato croons. “Don’t you see how pretty you look?” Color spreads in splotches down his body, heat blooming across his mismatched chest. His untouched cock stands proudly, tenting his sweatpants, and he almost feels embarrassed by how hungry he is for Minato’s touch. </p><p>He swallows hard, biting out, “I d-don’t look pretty.” </p><p>“I beg to differ,” the blonde says, tugging Obito’s pants down his muscular thighs and freeing his erection. His cock bobs in the air, and Minato immediately reaches down to rub his thumb over the dripping tip. “Your cock is pretty, too.”</p><p>Obito shudders at the touch, fighting against the hand on his chin to look down, but Minato is relentless. </p><p>“Ah-ah,” Minato chides. “Eyes on the mirror, Obito. Don’t you want to be a good boy?”</p><p>All of the air leaves Obito’s lungs at once. <em> “Yes.” </em></p><p>There is always tenderness to the way that Minato touches him, but this… this is <em> different. </em> Minato has never demanded anything of him the way he is now, unwilling to allow Obito to sink into his own insecure thoughts. Obito isn’t a child anymore, far from it, and he can surely hold his own against the famed Yellow Flash. But it doesn’t seem to matter, because he <em> feels </em> every ounce of that powerful presence, and Minato grounds him better than gravity.</p><p>Obito isn’t sure how Minato managed to slick his hand without being noticed, but he leaves the mystery to the fastest man in the world and loses himself in the sure grip that makes his knees quake with every stroke. </p><p>“There you go,” the Hokage purrs, “let yourself feel good, darling.” </p><p>The picture they make in the mirror is gorgeous, and Obito’s face is flushed red now, mouth wet and parted as he gasps for his former teacher’s touch. “Mina-<em>ato</em>,” he whines, and Minato rewards him with a twist over the head of his cock. </p><p>“Your mouth is perfect,” Minato says easily. “I love your smile. It makes me want to fall in love with you all over again.” </p><p>The contrast of Minato’s words with the dirty grind of his hips crosses all of the wires in Obito’s brain, and he feels overwhelmed, drowning in the touch and the scent and the light of Minato, Minato, <em> Minato. </em> </p><p>“<em>Minato, </em> I’m gonna-- <em> ah, </em> fuck,” Obito moans, and Minato’s grip loosens, just enough that it chases away his impending orgasm.</p><p>Minato’s blue eyes are swimming with hunger, but his voice is just as commanding as it is on the battlefield. “Not until you tell me.”</p><p>“Tell you w-what?” the younger man gasps, unable to keep from fucking into Minato’s hand. </p><p>“Tell me that you’re beautiful.” </p><p>Obito shakes his head, jerks against the iron grip on his chin, but Minato redoubles his effort, holding him in place.</p><p>“You don’t get to come until you say it.” Minato is effortlessly cool in his delivery of this ultimatum. “I’m a patient man, Obito.” </p><p>He knows, he knows, Obito knows everything that makes Minato the most powerful man alive and he wants to fight it, doesn’t want to see it, but--</p><p>Minato bites him again, sucking skin hard enough to leave a rose blossom on the curve of his neck.</p><p>“Try.”</p><p>For the first time, Obito really looks at himself. It’s difficult through the haze of pleasure, but he sees a muscular build, a handsome face, the speckles of heat across his chest. He sees messy hair, a panting mouth, the V of his hips. He sees his cock, aching and hard.</p><p>But he also sees the story behind every scar, the wear of the years on his body. He sees the power that he has built, maybe for the wrong reasons, but he can use it for good now, he can <em> choose </em> to be good now. His blood thrums through his body, leaving him red and aching and wanting, because he is <em> alive, </em> and--</p><p>He sees Minato behind him, every ounce of love and desire spilling from his sunshine smile. </p><p>“I’m beautiful,” Obito says, the words a mere thoughtless whisper.</p><p>Minato’s blue eyes sparkle. </p><p>“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”</p><p>“I’m beautiful,” Obito repeats, a little louder this time. </p><p>“You are,” Minato responds, stroking <em> just the way </em> Obito likes it. He brings his lips to Obito’s scarred cheek, kissing him with an open mouth. The tenderness of it all brings the younger man to the brink. “You’re perfect, darling. Show me how good you can be, how much come you made for me--”</p><p>And the praise sends Obito right over the edge, spilling hotly over Minato’s nimble fingers, streaks of white coming to rest over his stomach. His knees buckle and Minato draws him into his lap, catches him easily because Minato is always there, will always <em> be </em> there to love and cherish him. </p><p>He rests there, leaning against Minato’s chest and catching his breath in the aftermath. It only takes a couple of minutes before he feels comically large in the smaller man’s lap, but Minato tugs him closer when he tries to shuffle off. </p><p>“Do you see now?” Minato finally asks. </p><p>He does.</p><p>For the first time Obito sees that maybe, just <em> maybe, </em> he’s worthy of absolution.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on Tumblr under the handle strangebeautiful!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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